


The S Files

by anarchybeauty



Category: Supernatural, The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Ghosts, Multi, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-01-15 05:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21248480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchybeauty/pseuds/anarchybeauty
Summary: Mulder and Scully are called into investigate a strange series of deaths, but the Winchesters are also on the case.





	1. Led Zepellin comes to town

Jon took another drag off his cigarette and turned up the radio. He was trying desperately to stay awake, but was sure he would have to pull over soon. He had class in the morning, but he was going to cause an accident if he didn’t have a nap. It was 2 in the morning, it was drizzling and he was in the middle of nowhere. 

Jon cursed himself for staying for dinner at his girlfriend’s. Well, dinner, then sex. That’s how he had managed to get on the road at 8:45 for a seven hour drive. He’d been chain smoking and guzzling gas station coffee ever since. Up ahead, he saw a sign for some place called Pleasantview. He pulled into the long driveway, looking for a spot to park. His headlights splashed across a crumbling brick building. The whole place looked like something out of a slasher flick. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, fighting his feeling of dread when a light turned on in an upstairs window.

“Jonathan Ross, found on the grass in front of the Pleasantview medical facility. Victim was found this morning by a security guard.” Scully pursed her lips. “I feel like there’s something not in this file that would make this an X Files.”

“There’s been three other unexplained deaths in the past two years within a mile of the Pleasantview facility. A 23-year old woman was found in the forest behind it, dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. A 47-year old man was found in a pond on the property, cause of death was undetermined because of the state of the body. A 31-year old was found in the trunk of his car, parked out front. He had enough heroin in his system that it could have been an overdose but his throat was slashed.” He flicked on his turn signal. “Here we are.”

The hospital loomed in the background. It had mostly stopped raining, but the air was still damp and thick. A park of the front lawn was taped off, a handful of cops standing around, drinking coffee. They flashed their badges at the closest officer.

“You Feds must travel in packs. Your buddies are over there.” The cop waved at two men crouched next the body.

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, and slid under the tape. The men noticed them approaching and stood; they both wore black suits and ties. There was something that rubbed Scully the wrong way. The way they held themselves, their hair, they seemed unlike any other FBI agents she knew. She pulled out her badge.

“Afternoon, gentlemen. Special Agent Dana Scully.”

“I’m Agent James Page, and this is Bob Plant,” the short haired one said, gesturing at the taller, long haired one. Scully glanced at their badges, but they seemed to hold their badges in a way that it was difficult to get a close look.

“Fox Mulder,” he introduced himself, pulling latex gloves out of his pocket, and handed a pair to Scully. They all crouched around the body.

The one with long hair said, “The body was found this morning by the security guard. This place has been closed down for years, but there’s been a problem with people squatting, so a guard stops by periodically to discourage it.”

Scully carefully examined Jon’s face. His cheeks, forehead and eye socket were swollen, his nose obviously broken. Most of his face was spotted with blood from a huge gash on his forehead and from his nose. The injuries to the rest of his body were less obvious, more superficial cuts and bruises, though his leg looked broken.

“I’ll be able to tell better when I do the autopsy,” Scully said absently, pulling a small paper bag out of her pocket. She gently slid it over one of Jon’s hands. “There’s some sort of stain on his fingers.”

Mulder nodded absently, as he closely examined the back of Jon’s jacket. “Agent Page, can you help me for a sec?”

“What have you got, Mulder?” Scully turned to have a better look.

Page lifted the body slightly, while Mulder pulled the shredded back of the jacket apart, revealing the words “FOR HIM” slashed into the victim’s back.

“So… why didn’t we call Led Zeppelin on the fact that they’re not FBI agents?”

Mulder crunched on a sunflower seed and snickered. “I’m curious why they went to all the trouble. Did you see the badges? They were fairly passable fakes. I’ve just got a hunch they might be useful.” He pulled up the morgue entrance. “I’m gonna drop you off. Call me when you’re done. I’m going to the Sheriff’s office and see if I can get their files on the other deaths.”

Mulder walked into the Sheriff’s office to find “Agent” Page flirting with the secretary. She was easily in her sixties and did not look impressed.

Mulder cleared his throat. Page startled and the secretary smirked.

“I’m Fox Mulder, I called about some files?” The secretary waved towards a door behind her desk.

“Go ahead, Officer Newton is expecting you.”

“Come on, Jimmy, I might need your help.”

Officer Newton showed them to a conference room connected to the evidence room. Three cardboard boxes and a stack of files were laid out for them.

Mulder pulled the lid off the first box. It was labelled “Smythe, Mari case no. LF-1487”

“So… you a fan of classic rock?”

Page shifted. “Ugh… not a big music fan.”

“I definitely am,” Mulder said, pulling a stack of photos out of the box. “The Who, Bowie, The Kinks, Led Zeppelin…” Page winced. 

“Look.” Mulder turned to him. “I can tell you’re pretending to be a federal agent. Why?”

He sighed. “My real name is Dean Winchester. The other guy is my brother Sam. We’re looking into the strange deaths that have been happening.”

Mulder paused in laying out the photos. “Are you private investigators?”

“Well, kinda. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Have you ever heard of the X Files? Scully and I investigate strange phenomena, things of a paranormal nature, global conspiracies, aliens.”

Dean laughed. It took him a moment to realize that Mulder was watching him straight faced.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Dean, I was chasing ghosts and aliens when you were still dumping in your drawers.” 

“The lacerations on the victim’s back cover an area of approximately 12 by 14 centimetres. They appear to have been made by a fine, sharp blade, possibly a scalpel. Mr. Plant, I can hear you.” 

Scully turned around, pulling her surgical mask down and giving Sam a pointed look.

“I’m not sure who you are or why you’re here, but my partner seems to trust you. However, I don’t. Why don’t you just tell me who you are?” She strode towards him, and standing as tall she could in her sneakers. 

“Sam Winchester. My brother and I… we think there’s something strange going on at Pleasantview. There’s been a number of deaths there and we believe they’re all connected.”

Scully went to the counter and picked up a file. “Mari Smythe, Alan Dunlop, Jared Murray. All discovered in the past two years. Their deaths don’t seem related other than where their bodies were discovered.”

Sam pulled out a notebook. “It goes further back, four years ago, Helen Palmer was found in the ditch along the highway, at the end of the driveway. Six years ago, Matthew Roberts went missing. His car was found parked in the Pleasantview lot. Amy Lewis was found in the woods behind Pleasantview, on county owned land. They estimated she had been dead between 12 and 18 months. LaTisha and Jerome Washington disappeared, their personal effects in the ditch by the highway. Marsha-”

Scully lifted her hand to stop him. “How many?”

“17 deaths and disappearances in 14 years.”


	2. See Jane Run

"So there's been 17 deaths in the surrounding area?"  
“And there doesn’t seem to be a pattern to them at all.” Sam put down his coffee and gestured at the map.

After finishing at the morgue, Sam and Scully had met Dean and Mulder at the diner. A map of the hospital grounds and surrounding area was spread out on the table, all of the body sites marked. The table was littered with coffee cups and their half eaten lunches. 

“I think we need to do a more thorough search of the grounds,” Mulder said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“Does anyone have any thoughts on what we might be dealing with?” Scully took a delicate bite of her turkey club and shot Mulder a pointed look. “No aliens.” Mulder held up his hands sheepishly.

Dean was deep in thought. “What if it’s a lady in white? Appearing to people on the highway and luring them to the hospital.”  
Mulder rubbed his chin. “That sounds like a strong possibility.”

Scully cocked her eyebrow at him. “Or its a run of the mill wacko.”  
“Is she always like this?” Dean asked, shoving the rest of his burger in his mouth.  
“You have no idea.”

Sam and Mulder opted to explore the upper levels, while Dean and Scully started on the main floor. It was mid afternoon and sunny, but inside the hospital, it was dark. The windows were boarded up or so dirty the light struggled to penetrate them. Everything stank of mildew, but it seemed the local wildlife avoided the building. After years of disuse, Scully expected it to be overrun with mice and spiders, but had yet to see a single cobweb or dropping.

Scully pushed open another door and shone her flashlight around the empty office. The walls still had decades old diagrams of the brain and nervous system as well as a calendar from 1983. Dean followed her, a small beeping box in his hand. 

“Is that an EMF detector?”  
“Yeah, you like it?” He grinned at her crookedly.  
“I’ve seen bigger,” she said.

“So what’s the deal with Mulder?” he asked, examining a poster listing dosages of lithium.  
“What’s the deal?” she said, trying to hide a smile.  
“Are you…I mean, is he…”  
“We work together. He started the X Files and I was assigned to them in 1993.”  
“No, I mean, have you ever…?”  
“Not that it’s any of your business, but… that was a long time ago.”

Dean turned towards an armoire in one corner. The EMF detector’s beeps turned into an insistent whine as he moved closer.

“Find something?” Scully stepping towards him.  
“Maybe.” Dean opened the armoire. It was bare inside. In fact, it looked like it had recently been cleaned, the old wood gleaming. He tapped the wood, until a piece seemed to give way, and the back of the armoire swung out.

“Secret doors, always cool.”

Scully shone her flashlight through the new opening, revealing a second door, this one metallic with a symbol painted on it.

“What is that?”  
“It’s a sigil for safety.”

Scully climbed into the armoire, pushing open the hidden door. 

“So you two are hunters?”

Sam and Mulder entered another treatment room. So far every room had been the same. Dusty sheets covering old beds, threadbare discarded clothing, the occasional piece of modern trash from squatters.  
“Yeah. Our father and grandfather were hunters too. I guess you could say it was the family business.”

They continued room to room. More beds, more trash. They moved through the central room, obviously a rec area at some point. What looked like the remains of a small campfire was in the centre of the room. An old bookcase stood by the window, now mostly empty, stacks of moldy books and records scattered. A record player sat on the windowsill. Something about it sent a shiver down Sam’s spine. 

They moved into another hallway. This one was lined metal doors with imposing locks, a narrow slit at eye level. Mulder reminded himself that he was a grown man, who had faced off against cold blooded killers, monsters and aliens, and this was definitely not creepy as hell.

Sam opened the first door.

“Oh shit.”

Scully carefully descended the stairs, Dean a few steps behind her. Finally her shoe touched a concrete floor. 

The room was large yet felt cramped and looming from stacks of boxes. The far side of the room was hidden by a long curtain, dim light spilling around it. Scully started towards the desk desk up against one wall, while Dean started looking in the boxes. They all seemed to be filled with patient files.

Scully shone her flashlight across the desk. It was littered with yellowed papers and dusty notebooks. She opened one of the books to a random page.

“November 2, 1953. Patient 17B is resistant to the new regiment. She screamed for hours until administered ether.”

Dean peered over her shoulder. “What the hell?”

She flipped to the next page. “17B is an excellent candidate for lobotomy. I had hoped that the removal of her uterus and ovaries would calm her, but it seems to have made her condition worse. 17B continues to be kept in isolation.” She showed Dean the cover. Dr. H.W. Capshaw was stamped in gold to the leather.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean growled. He stalked over to the curtain and yanked it back. “Son of a bitch,” he repeated, his voice now a whisper.

Sam stepped into the isolation room. A pile of old blankets were folded neatly in one corner, a pillow on top. A small lantern and an assortment of books sat next to them. But the sight that chilled him to the bone were the words FOR HIM written over and over, from floor to ceiling.

“I think we found our killer’s bedroom,” Sam stepped closer to the closest wall, examining the writing.

Mulder knelt beside the pile of possessions, spreading out t he books. They were mainly children’s books, the kind Mulder remembered from his childhood. See Jane run. Run Jane run. Dick’s coming for you.

The other two books were ancient anatomy books, the bindings crumbling. Mulder started to carefully leaf through them.

“Sam, come look at this.” Sam crouched down. Page after page, each diagram was covered in nonsensical writing, interspersed with old receipts, family photos, driver’s license, the flotsam that collect in wallets and purses.

“We found our killer’s trophy case.” Mulder stood. “Let’s find the others and call in a crime scene crew.”

The back wall of the basement glowed from the fluorescent bulbs that hung crookedly from the ceiling. The walls were papered with thousands of drawings, some crude and childlike, some elegant, some unsettling. It took Scully a moment to realize that the floor was tiled. 

“This must have been a surgical suite.” She was inspecting a locked footlocker, when her phone started to buzz. She checked it while she stood. “Come on, Mulder and Sam are waiting for us.”

Sam and Dean made themselves scarce while the crime scene techs worked. Sam dozed with a book open on his lap while Dean watched Mulder and Scully.

Finally, as the sun passed the horizon, they packed up. Dean drove over to where the agents were standing.

“Anyone else need a beer?”

The bar was Dean’s favourite kind: dark, loud, dirty. A waitress in tight denim dropped four beers and a basket of wings at their table. 

Sam took a sip. “So aliens, huh?”

Mulder laughed, “Yeah, aliens. And ghosts, psychics-”  
“Bigfoot, Flukemen, that guy who ate livers, shapeshifters-”  
“Haunted dolls, killer cockroaches, wasn’t there a time traveller?” 

Scully nodded while she took a sip. “I think so? That was a while ago.”

“And you two? Ghosts, vampires?”  
“Yeah, but it always seems to come back to angels and demons.”

Scully choked on her drink. “They’re real?! Is God real?”  
“Oh yeah, but we call him Chuck.”

“I need another drink,” Scully signalled the waitress.

“His sister tried to destroy the universe, it was a whole thing.”

“Can you just bring the bottle?” Scully called to the waitress.


End file.
